Tw Daddy Kink - Tumblr Posts

God damn- United as one nation under this man, by some sheer amount of grace ✨Thank SO much✨

okay hear me out. DILF kiri??

i hear you and i see you, anon hehe

WARNINGS : smut, size difference, belly bulge, soft cervix fucking.

Unfortunately, the older version of Kirishima, wornout, fully grown, truly a hulk of a man—is ridden with insecurity.

He’s not trim and chiseled like Bakugou, or a modelesque “dilf”—what even is that? he’s wondered a handful of times—like Todoroki.

No, he’s massive. Nearing seven feet tall, once a benefit for his hero work, now retired, he just feels awkward in his body. Kirishima’s unnaturally thick, too, covered head to toe in scars and coarse hair with rough, calloused skin to match. His pointed teeth no longer presenting as youthful and fun. And it’s all.. It’s just..

People don’t like that, do they?

So he thinks. Sulking into a corner of society he dug himself, where he believes he’ll be spared of judgment, safe from shame. But things change when tiny, little you, pure and innocent, feast your eyes on the monstrosity that is Kirishima Eijirou.

You bat your lashes when you bump into him, neck straining as you blink up at the redhead in awe. He’s kind, quick to applogize, blissfully unaware of the thoughts wreaking havoc in your mind, the finality of the decision you’ve just made: you want him.

That’s how the two of you end up back at your place, his massive palms squeezed between your grasp as you pull him hastily into your apartment. He has to duck his head several times on the way to your bedroom, all while his heart thrums in his chest like a goddamn virgin.

“Are you sure? I mean—“

“Oh, shut it,” are the last coherent words that fall from your pretty lips, or at least, words that aren’t whines and mewls, slurred praises drowning in the drool you can’t seem to contain anymore.

He’s enormous, barely fits the entirety of his figure on your mattress, with legs so long that they hang off the bed—however, he’s got them folded underneath himself, bent so he can fuck his weapon of a cock into your tight cunt just the way you tell him to.

“S’big, fuck—“

“Is it okay?” It comes out as a grunt, heavy palms gripping the flesh of your ass as he drills into you, “Too much?”

You shake your head, peaking up at the man half-lidded, blissed out, his breath hitching at the sight, “Nn, need more, Eiji.”

His eyes nearly roll into his skull. What’s a sweet angel like you doing all this for? Desperately grinding yourself on his girthy cock, when your legs don’t—can’t—even reach around his waist? You leave him with no choice but to fuck you onto him, gravity driving the swollen head of his cock into your untouched womb.

“Doesn’t it hurt? Should we—“

You claw at his chest, thick wires of hair pinching between your nails, “Don’t stop, oh god, feels so good, Daddy.”

What kind of monster are you? His tongue bleeds with how hard he’s biting down on it, losing himself in the way that you willingly destroy your cunt for him, on him, with him.

It’s too much, he thinks, spilling years of pent up cum into your abused hole, pulling you flush, admiring the bulge formed on your tender belly and the way you smile so sweetly just before collapsing onto his chest.

Maybe this isn’t so bad. Maybe he isn’t so bad.

DO NOT RECOMMEND ANY OF MY WORKS ON TIKTOK.

🥵

sucking on toji’s thumb while he cuddle fucks you to sleep, and in the morning you wake up after cock warming him all night to his raging morning wood 🫢

stoppppp

can you imagine how hard he'd fuck you the next day too? he'd probably wake up with blurred vision, grunting as he gets used to being awake and wondering why he's so turned on until he remembers who's sleeping soundly beside him.

he looks down at how the duvet pitches like a tent, how last night it had fit so snuggly in your warm, wet walls before he drifted off and began to toss and turn in his sleep.

he'd roll onto his side, kiss along your bare skin. a lazy attempt of waking you up before he buries his cock into you again, you won't mind. he'll make you both feel good, you'll wake up moaning because there's no better way to wake up.

his heavy breaths in your ear have you stirring awake, confused, but more than happy to let him use you to take care of his little huge problem. his tip knocking against your cervix with minimal effort, he grunts your name as he realises you've woken up.

endless praise and adoration spills from his lips as he chases his release, 'good morning pretty girl, mmpf, you're so tight f'me. gonna breed this pretty pussy, let daddy get off jus' like this.'

dark content ahead ! you have been warned <3

VAGA MONDO’s precious little stepdaughter.

warnings: rape, psuedo-incest, virginity loss, somno, dubcon/noncon, fem! reader

getting raped in your sleep by your step daddy zhongli!!! he’s sooo big that it woke you up before he’s even halfway in. it’s been so long he’s fucked a virgin, and one as cute as you. he’s hushing you, “shhhh baby, you can take it. you have to take it, daddy’s missed fucking tight pussies like yours.”

the stretch and burn only makes you clench down and tighten around his cock like a vice, practically tempting him into shoving his length in without abandon, zhongli wants to sink deep into his sweet step daughter's cunt and leave his heavy load up there, kept from dripping out by your cute panties. zhongli is a man of patience so he slowly lets you get used to the feeling of a cock in your virgin pussy while you're still half asleep, convinced its a dream though zhongli's towering stature over you and weight pressing into your body say otherwise. zhongli would love it when you whimper out, "daddy? is that you?" only to hush you with soft kisses and slowly forcing his length deeper into you. once he's snugly balls deep, zhongli would kiss you passionately, praising you for being such a good girl, keeping her cunny tight n virgin for him to take. your cunt is just so perfect for him, you were just too cute all asleep in your bed when he came home from work, he just had to bury himself inside <3 after this, zhongli will be visiting your room every night when you're alseep to release his sticky load inside your waiting cunt.

a/n: this is the last time i’m gonna try reupload this, if tumblr is ungrateful for zhongli i will be incredibly petty.

wouldn’t it be disgusting to call your nii-chan daddy ^-^ s’ already bad enough that you’re having sex with him… and then you moan out daddy while he’s balls deep in you? hehe… he’ll make you a mommy by dumping his loads inside you… when you’re full with his kids, you’ll make him a daddy ♡

Tell you no lies.

Yandere ! Jungkook x College student OC

Lawyer Jungkook.

Summary : You’re just staying at your mother’s apartment for your first year of college to save some money. Jungkook is your stepfather who is too intriguing to ignore.

Warnings : Yandere themes, non con, manipulation, pseudo incest, daddy kink, age difference. 

Word Count : 4,100. 

Part 1

——————–

Jeon Jungkook is your step father,. an intriguing figure in your life, almost twenty years older than you and yet so far from ‘old’.   Even at 38 he’s a handsome man , tall and strapping and with a well kept body. He never misses a workout, up at the crack of dawn, sipping his protein shake and dressed in short and a tank top with his bag slung over his neck. 

Jungkook works extra hard to look good and and you don’t blame him. Your own mother is a beautiful lady five years younger than Jungkook but she looks like she could be your older sister.

And because she had you at 15 , she’s always been more of a sister anyway. You love your mother, although you don’t have a typical mother daughter relationship. 

You grew up with your grandparents , back in your hometown in Daegu. Your mother had always been a city girl. You don’t dislike her, you just don’t understand her and her lifestyle, having always been attracted to the quiet solitude of home and family rather than the pull of the night. 

Keep reading

This was so immaculate and hot fire ! Some good Akaashi food for the soul <3

Snare

Keiji Akaashi x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

WC: 3k

TW: Exhibitionism, Degradation, Teasing, Begging, Bratty Reader, Daddy Kink, Spitting, Spanking, Asphyxiation, Mirror Fucking, Jealousy

A/N: This is my (extremely late) secret santa gift for @deathcab4daddy. Forever sorry that it took me this long to finish, but I wanted to make sure it was perfect; hope you enjoy it love! ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Irritation is not an emotion Keiji feels often. Trying as you are, he prides himself on keeping a level head and soft tone, only ever offering the truth with a smile. It’s only right, considering how much experience he’s had dealing with explosive personalities.

Tonight, he can feel himself slipping.

It’s not that you’re being explicitly difficult; hell, you’ve been nothing short of an angel all day. From the breakfast you served him in bed to the time you spent lounging and simply enjoying each other’s presences, it seemed like Kuroo’s Christmas party was bound to be the icing on the cake to a perfect day. And when he watched you glide out in a short, velvety dress—all long, lustrous legs and bare shoulders—Keiji was positive nothing could ruin his mood.

“Yeah, ‘Kaashi was so plastered he face-planted in front of his date,” Bokuto’s deep baritone rings out amongst the throngs of guests, “and to make it worse, he puked all over her dress!”

“Kōtarō, please,” you let out a giggle dipped in one too many glasses of champagne, manicured fingers grazing his larger friend’s bicep and lingering just a second too long for Keiji’s liking. He knows that his friend’s story is all in good fun, that your gesture is innocent, that the casual word, ‘please,’ is nothing compared to the strings of prayers and curses alike that he has you sobbing beneath the sheets most nights.

So he remains silent, hands stuffed in his pockets, glaring with furrowed brows and a permanent scowl. Is it just him or did Bokuto actually flex when you touched his arm? Every time his eyes glance towards yours, Keiji can’t help but grit his teeth harder. Perhaps he’s just overreacting, turning nothing into something for the sake of his frail ego.

Maybe he’s the one being difficult.

But the night continues this way for far too long—Bokuto landing joke after joke, you chuckling along, and Keiji downing glass after glass of champagne and still feeling painfully sober.

When a careless quip about his stamina, or lack thereof, is thrown out, Keiji decides he’s had enough. He offers his clueless best friend a polite excuse, threads his fingers around your dainty wrist, and tugs you into a far hall of the looming house. It doesn’t matter that his body sways with every step or that the words muttered beneath his breath are slurred; his only concern is pulling you away, reclaiming your precious attention, and losing his cool in the privacy of a shadowy corner where no one will take notice.

“What the fuck was that?” Despite being well-past inebriated and teetering on plastered, Keiji thinks he’s doing a stellar job at keeping his voice even and reserved. A quick glance at your raised brows tells him otherwise.

“I think I should be asking you that question,” you run your fingers down the miniskirt of your dress, smoothing out wrinkles that don’t exist. He’d think it’s a tell—a trick to steady wavering, guilty hands—but your stare doesn’t shift from his own. “You haven’t said a word all night.”

Firm as you’re trying to be, your voice is still twinged in confusion, the words tumbling from your lips a soft whine of annoyance. It’s nothing Keiji’s not used to, but tonight it seems the alcohol is speaking.

“And? You’re too busy drooling over ‘Kōtarō’ to care.” With that blunt retort, he feels a bit more himself. A version seething with envy, but still, himself.

The impact is swift, a worried bite at your lip flitting into a slow, knowing smile. Keiji can read you like a book, but what the hell is there to be smiling about when he’s deathly serious?

“Keiji,” your lithe fingers trail at his crisp collar, causing him to sink further against the wall, “are you jealous?”

“No.” Yes.

He can feel his head clouding over, the weight of all the downed champagne bubbling up with every stroke of your hands across his chest. The privacy of the empty hallway now seems uncomfortable, far more cramped than the bodies crowded into Kuroo’s large living room.

“You’ve been around me too long,” you giggle, teasing, “I see you pouting, babe.” It’s clear you’re trying to rectify the situation by poking fun, but Keiji doesn’t budge, doesn’t want to budge; not that easily, anyways.

His lack of compliance only makes you laugh harder, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him even as he tries to shake you off. “We were talking about you the entire time, drama queen.”

He catches himself before he can crack a smile; at this point, he’s in too deep to simply kiss and make up. Though if you continue to carelessly splay your body against his, that plan may quickly slip out of reach. Every brush of your breasts against his bicep or warm hands roaming his body reminds him why he typically stays sober at these functions. A tipsy girlfriend makes for a loss of inhibitions—and a complete lack of self-awareness.

“Do you even realize what you’re doing?”

“Huh?” He watches as your face contorts, confusion etched onto your soft features once again. It’s adorable, almost allows him to forget you’ve been trying his last nerve all night. Almost.

“You– ugh.” Instead of arguing, Keiji twists your bodies, caging you in against the wall. His hands roam your bare thighs, kneading and pressing at the supple skin and reveling in the heat that seems to pull his fingertips closer. His lips ghost over your collarbone, your neck, your jaw, never quite making contact even as you shift to allow him access.

A smile spreads across his face when he hears you mewl softly, fed up with his groping. “I can see you pouting, babe,” he speaks between grazes, licking the shell of your ear, “but you did this to yourself.”

“Keiji, we’re in public,” trembling hands push at his chest, a half-hearted attempt at maintaining respectability. Well, it’s too late for that.

“Yeah? What about when you were all over Bokuto?” He skims a finger across the hem of your dress—smooth red velvet sending shivers down his spine—before tugging it up. The article’s so skimpy, he doesn’t even have to, but the way your eyes widen is worth it. “What about when you were all over me, just a minute ago? Were you not in public then?”

“That- that was all innocent,” you whisper hurriedly, voice jittery as your brows furrow. He runs his finger across your panties, an action that makes you keen and him snicker. He doesn’t let up, simply because he can’t contain his excitement any longer; the lace is absolutely drenched.

“That’s why you’re fucking soaked right now, huh.” Keiji’s words are surprising, even to himself; though blunt, he’s not typically so vulgar. But they work wonders on the both of you.

He feels your lower half twitch towards him, hands reaching out to steady yourself against his shoulders. All the while, your eyes are lidded, glazed over in– lust? inebriation? Whatever the reason, it does it for him. He feels his dick harden beneath his slacks, strains it against your thigh so you can feel how painfully frustrated he is with you, for you. “Anything to say for yourself?”

At that, you seem to regain your bearings, hands settling more firmly on his shoulders. When you look him in the eyes, Keiji can practically see the jest—the disobedience—dancing across your irises. Your lips quirk into a devilish smirk and out tumbles the word he had been waiting on,

“Nope.”

And there’s the brat he knows, coming out to play your favorite game of cat and mouse. You want to make him work for it, desire nothing more than to be treated like the whore you are until you’re crying and begging for him. He knows the game well, of course.

But this time, he’s got something different in mind.

The sheer disappointment on your face when Keiji untangles himself from you is enough to make him cackle. As he turns away, he offers little explanation in the form of a shrug and a devious smile.

“Heard Kuroo’s making a speech,” he throws over his shoulder, “we should probably head back.” He doesn’t even have to check to know you’re pouting.

As the night continues, he knows he’s got you precisely where he wants you. An ‘accidental’ graze of his arm on yours makes you shiver, the hand glued to your lower back has you keening into him, every charged gaze into your eyes and sharp flash of pearly canines results in a lip bite and clenched thighs. But still, he makes no move towards you.

Because this time, the mouse is going to come to the cat—hand delivered with a shiny red bow to boot.

“All in all, I’m just glad I could have my closest friends around for the holidays,” Kuroo raises a glass to the small crowd, “Merry Christmas!”

Keiji raises his glass with the rest of them, the same one he’s been carrying around for the past hour; sobriety is necessary for what’s to come. When you raise yours, he shifts his fingers to massage slow circles into the back of your thigh.

A gasp, shattered glass, and dozens of eyes trained on you.

It wasn’t his intended reaction, but it works at riling you up nonetheless. Soon, you’re apologizing for your clumsiness, glare unwavering from Keiji’s own amused smile even as you whisk him away to the bathroom ‘to clean up’.

“Keiji,” you stress, arms crossed against your chest, while he’s kneeling beneath you rubbing at the tiny stain.

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up, doesn’t dare ruin the little trick he’s mastered: feigned indifference.

“Keijiii.” This time it’s a whine, high-pitched and drawn out in the hopes that it’ll sway him. When he finally glances up towards you, he can practically taste the desperation threaded through your face. Your hands grab at his jaw, ghosting a thumb across his cheekbone as you finally, finally break, “Need you.”

But it’s not enough for him.

“Is that any way to ask?” He snickers, you let out a huff of frustration, and the game goes on.

“We’re in a tiny bathroom at your friend’s Christmas party. I’m not gonna sit here and beg–”

He turns his head, making a move to leave, “Oh, the stain’s gone. We should probably head ba–”

“No, no– wait!” Your palms grab at his face again, frenzied and forlorn, slightly sticky and sickly sweet, reminiscent of the bubbly champagne still surging through your bodies. “Just fuck me already.” It’s spoken hardly above a whisper, laced with urgency.

“Vulgar, but not quite,” Keiji teases, but he finds his hands already on you, drifting over the smooth skin of your calves, your thighs, and toying at the soft, velvet hem of your dress once again.

“Please.” That earns you a few kisses to your inner thighs, to which your legs party readily. Needy slut. He can hardly wait himself, wants to pounce on you and be done, but the wait is worth it.

“Please what?” He speaks between nips and licks at your thighs, traveling closer and closer to heaven, but never touching you where you both need it most.

“Please daddy, fuck me.”

And finally, Keiji complies.

The bathroom is cramped, filled with heat and fervor and two bodies haphazardly grabbing and groping anywhere they can get their hands on. He lifts you onto the sink, lips clashing to yours passionately; your fingers weave through his hair, shooting sparks down his spine.

Every touch is a plea for more, an insatiable craving to meld your bodies into one. He fumbles with your dress’s zipper before deciding it’s a hopeless endeavor, choosing instead to tug the bodice down and hem up to expose you.

When he pulls his lips from yours, a string of saliva still connects you. He gives you a once over and– fuck. You—with your lidded eyes glazed over, lips puffy, breasts strained against his chest—are enough to drive Keiji mad.

In seconds, his fingers are at your cunt and his lips at your neck. He shifts your panties to the side and slides two digits into you easily, reveling in the heat that envelops him.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp sharply, a pretty little noise that he wants, needs, to hear again and again. With each thrust, it’s as though your cunt molds to his fingers, pulls him in and aches for more. His thumb at your clit makes you twitch and bite at his shoulder, and all the while, Keiji grinds his throbbing cock against your leg.

But it’s not about him, not yet. Right now, he wants nothing more than to see you fall apart, to cling to him and chant his name like a prayer—trembling and begging for more.

His free hand flits to your jaw, pressing your mouth open. And like the good little whore he knows you are, your tongue rolls right out. Keiji’s enraptured by the spit that hits it, offers you a rough grunt of ‘hold it,’ while he continues to pump and curl his fingers into you.

You’re nearing the edge; he can feel it in the way you clutch at his shirt, in your furrowed brows and quivering thighs. It only makes him move faster, resolute in making you see stars.

“Cum for me.” It’s a demand more than a request—one that he knows you’ll fulfill with devotion.

And you do. One press against that spot Keiji knows good and well, and your body stills, muscles straining and a choked mewl leaving you with a shudder. He works you through it, biting at your neck and soothing over the pain with his tongue.

“Turn over.” You may be worn out, body still quivering against his, but Keiji’s not quite done with you yet.

He unzips his pants in a flash, pulls his cock out in half that time. Rubbing against your slit, his entire body shudders with need. “So messy,” he can’t help but groan, hands secured to your waist. It only makes you hump back against him, wiggling any way you can to get him inside of you.

Back and forth, he runs his member across your slick, spreading it all over him—though he doubts he’ll need the extra lubrication. “Tell me how badly you want it.”

“Please Keiji,” a stinging slap to your ass, “Please daddy, I need you. Need you so fucking bad.” Your hands are flush against the counter, gripping the sides with enough force to turn your knuckles white. Keiji thinks he likes you best like this, wanton and breathless, splayed out for him like a common whore where anyone could see you. It suits you, he thinks.

He sinks into you hard and fast, basking in the warmth of your cunt— the way it pulsates and stretches around him. No matter how hard you try to keep quiet, your moans quickly escalate from soft, whiny whimpers to full-blown mewls. Keiji quickly reaches to shove a finger into your mouth, then two, pressing down hard on your tongue until you gag and sputter around them.

“That’s it, baby,” his free hand tangles through your locks, yanking so that your face meets the mirror. “Take a look at yourself.”

“Mmph.” Whatever you’re trying to get out is hazy, turned into mindless babble as you pant and squirm beneath him. Even as you try to keep your eyes trained on your reflection, every thrust makes your eyes roll back, a movement that prompts Keiji to tug harder on your hair.

“I said,” another harsh snap of his hips against your ass, “look.” Despite his attempt to gag you, a delirious, high-pitched moan is ripped from your throat. He removes his fingers from your mouth, only to smear spit-soaked fingers across your plump lips. Sloppy, just how he likes you.

Keiji begins to lose himself in you; it doesn’t matter that your voices are escalating, that your hands hit the wall with a resounding thunk every time he pounds into you, or that the two of you have been gone for far too long to blame on a stain. His only concern is the fluttering of your soft cunt around him and your inevitable releases.

“M’close,” you murmur, eyes screwed shut. He keeps his pace, fast and hard, and nuzzles his face into your neck, enveloping himself in the smell of warm vanilla, champagne, and sweat—a combination good enough to fucking eat. One of his hands moves to wrap around your throat, the other to rub circles on your bud.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “such a perfect whore for me.”

Your entire body tightens, muscles tensing as you murmur strings of gibberish. Keiji doesn’t let up, doesn’t dare stop moving his fingers, even as you buck and shake. With the way your cunt sucks him in, the warmth and pleasure of each hump into you, he finds himself close behind you—stilling all at once to paint your insides white.

And then you’re both left panting, unmoving from your spots on the counter, all tangled limbs and sweat-soaked skin. He takes a moment to regain his composure, whispering soft praise into your ears as you both come down from your highs.

When he’s finally settled, he slips out of you, grabbing toilet paper to wipe you both off while you fix your dress.

“That was–” You sigh contently, voice hoarse, and turn to look at him, still wearing that fucked out glow that makes his heart soar.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think anyone noticed?”

A knock at the door.

“Uhm, hello?” Kuroo stutters. Bokuto’s deafening laughter can be heard from behind him. “Yeah, uh, the party ended twenty minutes ago.”

Keiji smiles.

“They noticed.”

cherry popper! ꨄ toji fushiguro

sypnosis: your first time with toji fushiguro

warnings!! virgin reader w daddy toji <33, reader saying “it hurts,” bit of dacryphilia, praise, pet names mama princess& girl, mentions of fingering, making out, p in v !! obviously

“slow down girl,” he chuckles above you, watching you pant from your lack of breath due to your previous sweet make out session. one of his arms placed next to your head, another one in your sweet wet cunt. just the taste of his tongue on yours made you ecstatic, barely able to contain yourself.

toji had been fingering you for the past hour, gotten you to cum twice. it hurts, the way he keeps on slowing down when you’re near, telling you he’s prepping you for when you feel his cock; but he’s simply riling you up! and he knows that.!

he feels the squelching of your cunt grow wetter with each thrust, slowly scissoring his fingers in your tight virgin cunt in preparation of his dick. he occasionally glides his fingers over your clit, unintentionally making you arch your back from the teasing.

“m ready toji please..”

“you really think you are baby? want your beautiful cunt filled?” he’s condescending and it embarrasses you. you muster out a un-confident, ‘yeah, but be gentle, please…!” all he does is laugh at your weak attempts to be a big girl before pulling his boxers down below his hip, exposing his hard cock that painfully strained against himself until now. all you can do is stare, his intimidating length and width, nearing the size of a coke bottle. you eye at his leaky throbbing red tip with translucent globs of precum spilling from the tip, and the vein that runs down his cock from top to the bottom.

it’s nothing you haven’t seen before in a way.. you could see his cock through his pants, even if he was soft. but now that it’s in the hold of the big man, it begins to feel real.

“ya sure you’re ready for it darling?”

you give him a simple nod but he won’t take it.

“need you to say it aloud for me baby.”

“i’m ready for you toji..” you whimper out, barely able to trust your own words.

the look of fear in your eyes, it’s almost as if it turns him on even more. all he wanted to do was to flip you on your tummy and fuck you with your head pressed down into the soft of your pink pillows till you cried for him to stop, but he had to be sweet now!

“alright, stay still f’me mama,”

he lines up his cock with your tiny cunt, and you feel your breath begin to labor.

“calm down princess. i’ll go slow. tell me if it hurts.”

with how wet you were, he could’ve slipped it in easy but you had too small of a hole. you feel a glob of his spit fall onto your cunt, what follows shortly when he begins to rub his cockhead around in circles on your cunt, pressing up on your clit. he gently teases you by pressing it back and forth in your hole, but never fully inside, giving you time.

“no more toji..”

all he can do is laugh at your squirming body, so desperate for him, making you shy again. he spits again but on his cock, giving his swollen cock head a few pumps, before using his free hand to press open your legs to stretch your cunt just a bit more.

he presses his tip against your wet hole, and you almost begin to tear up. not wanting to cry in front of toji, but you were so scared. but he knows,

“don’t be scared baby, i’ll make you feel so good alright?”

he leans down over to kiss your lips, meanwhile slightly slipping just the tip into your cunt. you feel him inside, and pull away. your reflects tell you to thrash away from it but you don’t. it’s so thick.

“toji… toji..”

“feel good baby?”

you’re almost shaking as you feel him sneaking inches into your cunt, before it hits a barrier.

“s gonna hurt just a bit baby.”

he pushes through your hymen quickly so there’s no pain, he truly tried to make this less painful! his heart pounds with ache when he’s met with a quick squeak, followed by pained pants and whines as you attempt to adjust to the unusual feeling.

“i-it hurts!! toji! hurts! “

“i know baby, i know.. fuck. you’re so tight mama.. doin’ so well.”

he bends over and cages your head in his arms, meanwhile slowly thrusting back and forth to sooth the pain. he wipes away the stray tears with his thumb, and kisses your face so sweetly. he continues his sweet peppering kisses, even while he pushes his cock deeper and deeper.

“toji no.. no.. too much i can’t.. don’t know how..” he smiles,

“don’t need you to know baby, just need you to lay there pretty for me and take it.” he looks down to see his cock covered in your blood and slick, and he almost cums.

he lets out a sweet groan at the sight, moving his attention back to your face to notice that you had stopped crying, rather started whimpering.

“still hurts baby?”

“yeah, does.. no more..”

“i know mama..”

even with your denial, he shoves his cock fully inside of you. he knows you just needed a push, and he was all for it. you scream out of shock at the uncomfortable fill in your cunt, pulling the man closer to you and into your chest, searching for comfort,

“toji! it hurts! hurts!”

“s okay baby, took it all. so good for me right? first time and you took all of it, you’re such a good girl. such a sweet, good girl baby. you’re doing so fuckin’ well for me. you are.”

he says as he kisses your face down to your neck. he doesn’t move until the look on your face changes from pain to pleasure, and he doesn’t need you to tell him when you’re ready for him to move. your minds cloudy and your thoughts fill with toji, and only him. you mindlessly moan his name over and over as he slowly strokes in and out of your silky cunt. he strokes through your hair and kisses your forehead so gently you almost want to cry.

“toji.. toji…. feels weird.. feels so good..”

“yeah baby? gonna cum for me sweetheart?”

“yeah.. think so.. dunno..”

he laughs at your innocence, he thinks you’re the cutest thing in the world.

“cum for me baby. cum on this sweet cock f’me mama.”

and you do.

𝓯𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵 𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚 ‎

wriothesley x sub!f!reader . nsfw — mdni . established relationship ﾉ daddy kink ﾉ breeding ﾉ oral [ m -> f ] ﾉ dirty talkin' ooo finger suckin' ooooo (๑ ˃̵͈́ᵕ˂̵͈̀ ) ﾉ infantilization + mindbreak ﾉ praise ﾉ lotsa petnames [ babydoll + little girl + princess + sweetheart + baby ] ﾉ sappie wuvie dovie sex bcos ! ! well :3 it's me !

the fortress of meropide’s pankration ring is vacant now— three hours after the stronghold’s annual boxing spectacle, two hours after champagne showers, one hour after all the prisoners and gardes have made their way back to their sleeping quarters.

the fortress of meropide’s pankration ring is vacant now, nearly— it’s pitch black, nearly, save for the warm yellow flickers of the half-functioning light fixture hanging above the ring’s canvas, the image it casts on the rusty steel walls of two bodies pressed together.

a dancing shadow of your back curling into a perfect arch off the floor, the tilts and turns of wriothesley’s head as he fervently suckles on your clit with alcohol-stained lips, the heels of your frilly-socked feet digging further into his shoulder blades, toes wriggling within the lavender fabric.

“daddy—!”

“pussy tastes so good—”

“pleasepleaseplease— won’t last if you keep— h-huuughh…”

“so fuckin’ sweet— shit, babydoll.”

it’s not like your lover to dirty talk you like this— obscenely and unabashedly and so greedily— licking and sucking and slurping and huffing, blunt nails digging into the plush of your thighs, past the white stockings he’s fortuitously torn off your legs where he now leaves little mauve moons upon your skin.

your lover is usually all grunts and groans and whines that get tangled in his throat— but you adore it when he gets like this. you adore it when he gets all touchy and clingy and desperate for your love after he’s knocked back a couple drinks, you adore the carnivorous growl in his voice when he tells you, fuck, princess, need you so bad, you adore the shower of praise and kisses and bold touches where his heart lies in his fingertips and he smudges lines of pink and red all over your flesh.

“pretty little pussy’s all mine… look at you, sweet thing practically drooling for daddy, yeah?” wriothesley moans, speaking more to your cunt instead of you, and pulls away, slick strung in a thin ribbon that connects his lip to the pearl of your clit. he watches how your hole twitches and clamps around air as it searches for something that only he can give you— hungry and ready with how much of your sticky cream oozes from it and drips down the globe of your ass, soaks the silk of his scarlet boxing robe that you lay atop of.

and your daddy’s right— it is practically drooling, so pathetically leaking for him. 

“fuckin’ gorgeous.”

a glob of saliva builds under his tongue at the sight, and he gathers it in the purse of his lips before spitting it out onto your pussy, watching the frothy bubbles cling to your skin, laughing lowly when you begin to whimper and writhe beneath him, knead biscuits on his chest in a weak attempt to push him away.

“daddy, ‘s embarrassing when you look, o-oh—!” your protests are shushed when he collects the stringy mixture of his spit and your slick from your pussy and moves back up to meet your lips, kiss you messily.

“ah, ah, ahhh… don’t get all shy on m’now, sweetheart.”

the peach champagne on his tongue hits you after the sugary saltiness of your release, and evidently, you realize he must be drunk by the slur of his words, the greedy paws that cup your pussy, and then grab at your hips, your waist, your breasts.

a sharp glint of bright white has one of your eyes squeezing shut when wriothesley shifts to look down at you, his smile nothing short of beguiling. his frame is wide— broad shoulders and a strapping chest and sinewy arms that you’re caged under, the gold of the medal hanging loosely off his veiny neck reflecting the light from above.

and, oh, wriothesley thinks you look so pretty when the heavy metal thuds against your cheek amidst his soft swaying— he thinks you’ll look even prettier with his victory wrapped around your neck, because what’s his is yours, yours is his; you belong to him and he belongs to you.

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

bringing the gold up to his lips, he places a sweet kiss on it, lowering the medal back down to you so you can place another one right on top of his, baritone voice losing it’s primal growl and replaced with something more silky, loving. “fuck, couldn’t have won this without you.”

your fingers scrabble at one of wriothesley’s hands, holding it tight to your chest— to your heart— because you think the sheer sincerity in his voice is enough to have you losing balance and falling into an abyssal love. but that’s okay, that’s where you belong, deep, drowning in it, because you love him, you love him, you love him.

“love you, i love you, daddy— so, so much; love you forever…”

and the fortress’ duke thinks you just might kill him, with that admission.

with that milky, fuzzy, adoring look in your eyes, and how you press his palm to your heart, serve him your entire soul on a diamond-embedded platter— it cuts into his chest and carves deep into his flesh. your words are flames, and they are but dew on his skin, soothing and healing. 

something knots in his throat; and all of a sudden he feels overwhelmed— by the rush of alcohol in his blood, by how sweet you’re being for him, by the painful ache of his leaky cock as he slides the length up and down your folds, each of his movements decorated by a tiny whimper that’s pried from your throat.

“fuuuuck, haha— love your daddy that much, huh? well, i love you, princess. love you even after forever.” wriothesley hunches over so close to you, cupping your cheeks with such delicate care— as if you’re crafted from the finest porcelain— before he kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, shoving an eternity’s worth of promises and secrets down into your lungs.

he pulls back shortly thereafter to admire your kiss-swollen lips, wiping the pearls that dew at your lashes from just how achingly painful your weeping cunt feels— from how awfully you need to have your daddy inside you.

“inside— nghhh, wanna feel you inside, wanna—”

“i know, i know, but can you be a big girl ‘nd wait a little longer? can y’do that for daddy?” he shushes you with a sweet coo and prod of his thumb at the swell of your bottom lip, gathering the drool that sits there, before you obediently take the digit into your mouth. his cock jumps against your clit and wriothesley doesn’t realize that his mouth has been watering at the show you’ve been putting on for him until a drop of spit lands on your shoulder— your smaller fingers lightly wrapping around his wrist to hold his hand in place, sucking and swirling your tongue around his thumb, licking the tip repeatedly and hollowing your cheeks, giving his thumb the same attention and care you would his cock.

“a-awhhh, shit— you’re such a good girl, mhm?”

your hips grind up mindlessly against your lover’s cock at his praise and your mind fogs up in submission, taking the digit deeper, deeper, suckling and licking until you’re drivelling spit down your chin, giggling stupidly and coating his heart in fondant. “mhmmm, hehe—! wanna be your good girl, daddy…”

“yeah? archons, you’re so cute,” he chuckles with you, shaking his head at how you’ve already gone featherbrained from so much as a mere suckle of his finger, pinching your cheek softly within his thumb and forefinger. “gonna put it in now, ‘kay? gonna give you your cock ‘nd you’re gonna take it; like my good little girl.”

with his free hand, he holds the heavy weight of his cock in the palm, tapping it over your clit and thumbing at his slit to coax more pre out from it, using the glossy cream to lubricate you further as he slowly pushes his aching, flushed tip past the tight ring of muscle lining your entrance. there’s a lewd, wet pop that follows when he gets his bulbous head settled in between your sticky walls, and he can’t suppress the noise— something in between a groan and laugh— that escapes him.

“fuuuck me, y’hear that?” squelch, squelch, squelch. “haha, that’s my liquid luck.”

“uh huh, ‘s yours, daddy— ‘s all yours, i’m all youuurs,” your voice comes out as a sweet, broken keen, one that dizzies wriothesley and has blood flooding his cock.

“a-ah, you’re gonna be the death of me, i swear…” his breathing picks up as he shallowly thrusts himself deeper into your cunt— it hugs him like a vice— like it loves him, his cock, like it wants to milk it dry. 

and without warning, he sinks fully inside of you until he’s buried deep in your sopping cunt— it’s a perfect fit. where his oozing tip is pressed up snugly against your cervix, every ridge and vein hitting all the right spots that line your walls. 

you drawl out a pitchy whine of his designation at the sudden split of his cock, hiccuping on your breath as he leans his whole weight on you and pushes your thighs back to meet your chest until the backs of your knees land on his shoulders, hips gyrating to grind his pubic bone down on your puffy bud. it soothes the sharp tremors of pain ripping through your core, washing them over with waves of pleasure, and you can only arch your chest up into his almost instinctually, fingers finding his face to trace sloppy stars over high-set cheekbones. 

“daddy, daddyyyy, i wanna k-kiss…”

your boyfriend smiles adoringly in response, not ignoring the heavy throbs and twitches of his cock within your drooling cunt at how fucking stunning you look underneath him: pouty and glassy-eyed as you weakly tug him closer by the lanyard of his medal, all ditsy and limbs pliable like the sweet little baby doll of his that you are, head near empty with nothing but daddy, daddy, daddy on your brain.

wriothesley finds himself unable to do anything but indulge your desperation, brushing his lips against yours softly— once, twice, until he feels your velvety breath settle in his lungs, and then he’s left craving more. 

“ohhh, baby, so tight.” his hips begin to rock against yours, and with each drag of his fat cock along your gummy walls, a hot knot begins to boil in the pit of your stomach. 

your lips break free from wriothesley’s when his thumb finds your clit, feeling him trace his name over the sensitive nub, gazing up at him through your dumbed out doe eyes, tongue caught in between your teeth in a dreamy little smile. because he looks so handsome like this, so, so gorgeous with raven and sleet slicked back by his fingers and the small strands that bounce and fall and curl around the pinch of his brows— it’s like he’s made of stardust and moonshine and tufts of clouds from the celestial skies because your daddy’s just so incredibly beautiful that it give you such a strong kick, one that sends you toppling back into the deep end and has you drowning in his love.

“you won me this gold medal, what d’you wan’ in return? a ring? fuck— i’d give you the whole universe if you asked. put the fuckin’ oceans in the sky for you.”

an erotic mewl escapes you from how romantic he’s being and you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize the effect his champagne-kissed words have on you— your toes curl and hips grind up mindlessly into his, pussy throbbing on his cock when your clit brushes against the cream-frosted hairs at the base.

the hard clamp of your walls peels a low groan from him, head hanging low and medal gently slapping your cheek with each slow, deep stroke, “s-shit, you like that, huh? tell me what you want, sweetheart—"

“want your cum— want it inside— in here,” you cut him off with needy babbles as you bring his palms to your tummy, laying them gently over the love bites that scatter your flesh likes the stars scatter the night sky— an eternal reminder that you’re his. “please, pretty pleaseee— wanna make you a papa— mhnn!” 

and then he’s plunging into you deeper than ever before, cutting your words short, breaking them off into pitchy little pants as he presses his crotch flush against your messy, web-coated folds and swirls the tip of his dick deliciously over that one spongy spot where you’ve been needing to feel him the most.

“awh, you wanna make me a daddy? but i already am one, aren’t i?” he teases, runs his knuckles under your jaw and tugs on the plump of your lip with his teeth.

flustered by his words, you whine, shake your head petulantly and try to hide your face from him with the back of your hand. squeeze your eyes shut bashfully. melt his heart into icing and frost cupcakes with it. “nuh uhhh, you know ’s not what i mean…”

it’s staggering— how adorable you’re being for him, with your sweet pleas and darling little whines, he can’t help but huff out a growl through gritted teeth before leaning down to gather your lips in a kiss; it’s filled with so much love and so much fervour when he swallows your pretty cries with his tongue in your mouth and, fuck, he’s certain that even the mere thought of stuffing you full of his seed is enough to bring him down to his knees.

“perfect— you’re my perfect little doll, yeah? gonna make you a mother, gonna make you my wife, gonna make you the happiest girl alive.” 

and it’s all so much, too much, the thumb he has pressed flat against your tongue to pacify your sobs, the promises he washes your tears away with, the sound of gold thudding harshly against the canvas of the floor when he thrusts into you at a different angle— one that has the tip of his cock knocking at the sponge of your cervix in a way where your hips rock up into his own. “daddydaddydaddy, please, ‘m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cuuuum—!”

“my sweet girl’s already fucked silly? got nothin’ but cock on your little brain, uh huh?”

“uh huh, uh huhhhh— wan’ daddy’s cock, wan’ daddy’s cum, wanna— mmph!”

your mindless babbling pulls a harsh guttural noise deep from wriothesley’s stomach, his vision doubling at the shaky lilt to your voice, at the manicured nails that dig into his biceps and claw red wings there— an eternal reminder that he’s yours. “oh, baby, that’s it, there you go— c’mon, be a big girl and cum all over my cock.” 

“n-no! nonono, wanna cum with youuu—” you cut him off with a sharp keen, wailing out when you feel him start to thrust harder, faster, pearls of your slick and his pre spluttering out to fall as dewdrops on your thighs. doing your best to wrap your arms around his neck amidst the jostles of your body, you pull wriothesley in closer, closer, until his lips meet yours and there’s no space for air between the two of you. 

he can’t help but crumble to ashes as you weep into the kiss, as you cling to him— it’s heart-wrenchingly cute how badly you need him. your slurred whimpers of, daddy, daddy please cum— wan’ it in me f’ever, remind him of just how much he loves you, so much, it reminds him that he is the only one for you in this timeline and every other, he is the only one that can ever make you feel this way— and, fuck, it fills him with a rush that he’s certain he’ll never find in anything else. the knot of fire that treads up his spine coils tighter on itself at the sound of your pitchy breaths and pathetic whines. 

it brings wriothesley to the heavens, and soon enough, he’s prattling on and tripping over his words just as you had been, drooling drivelling from his lips like a fucking dog.

“shiiit, all those pretty fuckin’ sounds you make, h-hah, gonna make me cum, baby— you want that? wanna make daddy cum? want his seed so deep inside ya? yeah, ohhh, i know you do, c’mon then, milk this fuckin’ cock, ’s all yours.”

and so, you moan and whimper and cry out for your daddy, goaded by his words and his cock moulding your cunt to the shape of him, toes curling and tapping helplessly over his shoulder, your orgasm flying through you from head to toe. “fuck, fuck fuck, daddy— ‘m cum’ng— cummiiiing, daddyyy—!”

it’s nothing short of endearing, how you clutch at the nape of his neck and whimper in the junction of his neck, little incoherent mumbles falling onto deaf ears. because when you cum, wriothesley cums too, seeing white, a strangled whine ripping from his throat when tiny squirts push past your hole where the creamy base of his cock sticks to your cunt and thick ribbons of his milk paint the walls of your womb.

your heart dances with wriothesley’s when they meet on the tip of his tongue, his nose brushing against yours with so much delicate care and a boyish chuckle pushing past him when your hips swirl in cute little motions to catch your clit on his pubic bone, grinding up and chasing his cock to keep it plugging you full. “wrio.” 

it comes out as a sniffle, and he can’t help but blush at the small pout you send his way. 

“yeah, princess?” he moves back to pull out of you, but your legs slip down from his shoulders in between his arms to wrap around his waist, ensuring his full length is kept inside your stuffed hole.

“if you move it’ll all leak out,” you whine, pitchy and puerile, “don’t want it to— wan’ it to stay in me forever and ever…”

his seed as a sliver of him in your tummy, a sliver of his love kept in your body until the end of time— his head falls forward into your neck where he can only bring himself to huff out an endearing laugh and repeat your words, “forever ‘nd ever, huh…?”

“mhm… forever ‘nd ever ‘nd even after that.”

you tug on the medal’s lanyard to prompt him to meet your gaze, absolutely cockdrunk and bambi-eyed with your bottom lip tugged coyly into your top teeth— wriothesley knows that look well, you cheeky little minx; and you giggle when you clamp down around him once more, coaxing another tiny rope of milk from his slit, evident by a sharp moan that escapes him mid-breath.

“you’re killin’ me, sweetheart.”

he's dizzy— either from all the alcohol or the intensity of his high or a mix of both, but he still manages to bar you to his chest with two steady hands against your back and raise you both so that you’re sitting upright on the floor, and you cry out at the shift in position, at how his cock is nestled so incredibly deep inside that you swear you can feel him piercing your womb.

and it’s a sound that so sweet, so tooth-rottingly sweet, because wriothesley can’t help but mutter out small proclamations of his love as he lays them all over your face, can’t help the excruciating ache in his limbs and muscles and the uncomfortable twist and turn of his organs because, archons, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

“gold looks good on you, wrio,” you whisper, cheeks burning with warmth and popping like corn from how wide your smile is, from the accidental tickle of his fleeting touches.

you’re floating— high on his love, floating higher, higher, until you’re swimming in the oceans he put in the sky for you, the waterfalls up in the clouds. 

the loss of his touch brings you back down to earth— his fingers are sticky, sweet and salty with drying champagne and a mix of your releases, but he could care less when he removes the medal from his neck and hangs it around yours, carefully laying the gold flat on your sternum, right above your heart.

and maybe he jumps the gun a little when he rubs your ring finger and searches for something that’s not there— his soul fanning across your face in sweet breaths when he starts thinking about white picket fences and a little angel with his hair, your eyes, his nose, your smile— the most beautiful blessing of all.

“well, i think it looks better on you.”

do u evr hate a character so much you wnt to write the most unabashedly horny smut for them . bcos i do ♡ anw hehe :3 tusm for readin ! ! ‎٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و i hope u liked dis n' it made u just as flustered as i felt when writing ⭐️ pls consider commenting ﾉ reblogging if u enjoyed aaa ( =v= ) it wld make mi so happie yayayayyy ! !

Bunnies must have daddy's hot semen all the time!

That's what we're for! To be cute, breeder bunnies to whom you give love and your cum ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

It's always nice to tell her that she is your cum dumpster while you sweetly kiss her cheeks ⊹₊⟡⋆₊˚⊹♡ ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

obsessive ex-boyfie rafe who scares everyone away. like if he sees you talking to a guy he’ll beat the absolute shit out of him or he’ll tell your friends lies so that they won’t be your friend anymore. & when you have no one left he calls you and he acts all broken hearted. “come back to daddy baby I miss you.” as he’s secretly laughing on the other end. & yk you shouldn’t but he’s all you have left. next thing yk he’s fucking you absolutely stupid. “so glad you came back to me kiddo…don’t ever leave daddy again, yeah?” (god he’s so mean & protective I need him)

literally on the ground sobbing right now ‘cause he’s so awful but so perfect. kiddo has me 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 he really knows all the things to do and say to keep you right where he wants you… it’s unfair but ummm… you guess you wouldn’t mind being stuck with your rafey forever ‘n ever…

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. dark / taboo themes ahead — please read at your own risk. f!reader, dark & mean!rafe, crying, toxic relationship/dynamic, mentions of blood, allusions to violence, car sex, daddy kink, choking.

you’re blubbering. crying so hard that your lungs burn and drool slips past your lips, nearly making yourself choke. you sniffle loudly, nuzzling your face into rafe’s shoulder because that’s the only comfort you can afford at the moment as you cover the expensive material in your tears.

he doesn’t mind the mess. you’ve both been in this position one too many times before to start caring now.

“c’mon, kiddo…” his voice is deceptively soft. saccharine and syrupy as he presses a few lingering kisses to your dewy forehead— “stop cryin’ for me, okay? you know why i had to do it, yeah? can’t have anyone taking you away from me.”

nodding. that’s all you can bring yourself to do, while he pets and soothes you with his hands that probably still have dried blood on them and bruised, busted knuckles.

everything about him is cruel. from how he loves to how he fights. your head spins, unable to believe that you’re once again in the backseat of his truck, in his lap and feeling crushed into a million pieces that he’ll build back up just to fuck with all over again— “let daddy make it better.”

there’s no way he could actually make it better. but you’ll let him pretend by helping you seat yourself on his cock, pushing your skirt up and yanking your panties to the side. your breathing becomes ragged as you sink down on each inch, feeling complete for the first time in weeks when you’re flush against him and full of his dick.

a mixture of pleasure and disgust pools in your tummy, while pain blooms where his fingers sink into you— your thighs, your ass, your hips. anywhere he can get a good hold on you that allows him to fuck whatever’s left of your brain out of your head. it’s not a difficult task for him to do. he knows everything and anything about you, knows you’re about to cum all over his lap when you catch your bottom lip between your teeth and can only slur out “daddy.”

“never leaving daddy again, huh?” rafe’s question is ground out through his teeth, and you know he expects a response when he suddenly has a grip on your throat, cooing in feigned concern when you whimper— “you’re fuckin’ lucky i don’t smack some sense into you, baby… such a silly girl for thinking you could ever live without me.”

Iwaizumi x f!reader; cheater!Oikawa x f!reader

Word count: 6,4k

Category: Angst, Smut

Warnings: Cheating, cursing, sex, some choking, slapping and mentions of violence (reader basically asks to be hurt), daddy kink (not ddlg), scummy Oikawa being an asshole, kind of toxic Iwaizumi, uh, that’s about it? Dm me if I missed anything.

Summary: Having your heart broken by Oikawa Tooru is unexpectedly hard, but it’s even harder to let yourself fall for someone new.

Songs that inspired this: “Sparks” by Coldplay, “Song for a guilty sadist” by Crywank and “Skinny love” by Bon Iver 

Huge thanks to @velvet-kissesss for editing this and always being the first to read my stories! <3

Oikawa Tooru is like the sun. His smile is as bright as a summer day, his gaze as cold as ice, but he‘s still your sun. Or he used to be. Clouds of doubt that came in the form of suspicious text messages and excuses clouded his brightness and warmth that never really cleared away. 

He‘s busy busy busy. You‘re always wasting his time, you‘re always annoying him with your silly messages, asking- no, begging for his time; which you know you won‘t get. Your eyes and heart are completely filled with Tooru, your sun.

Even his friends notice the odd behaviour of their former captain yet they mask their concerns for your wellbeing with jokes and laughs once you stop showing up to their weekly dinners. 

The storm started when you overheard the conversation you weren‘t supposed to hear. It‘s a rare occasion to be home at the same time as Tooru, even in your shared apartment, your boyfriend so kindly paid for (You offered to pay rent, but even if he would‘ve accepted your offer, a broke college student would never be able to afford it). His voice sounded slightly annoyed, the notes barely there, but from the time you spent together you could clearly tell he was having an argument. 

“I’m not fooling around. I don’t know what to do,” 

You couldn’t tell what the argument was about, but you pressed yourself against the living room wall that divided the two rooms. Eavesdropping wasn’t good, but you were worried for Tooru. He was never home, never shared his worries and now he was getting into arguments. Your anxiety was rising. What if something was going on? 

“I’m not leading her on, you don’t know what you’re talking about! The only girl you’ve ever dated left you before college started. Adult relationships are so much harder,” 

There was only silence for a moment that seemed to stretch out into infinity. 

“I’m thinking about ending things. I think… I’m almost sure I’m falling out of love with her,”

Everything went silent until then the ringing in your ears took everything away. Your head was spinning, eyes unable to focus on anything, lungs suddenly filled with water and throat with sand. Empty. Empty, so painfully empty but full at the same time. You were the ‘her’ of the conversation. You were the girl Tooru was falling out of love with. 

You didn’t feel yourself falling onto your knees. You didn’t hear the loud thud, you didn’t even notice how cold the floor was until your silent bubble was popped by Tooru’s voice. 

“Shit, Y/N!”

His arm on your shoulder felt so heavy. Too heavy, the water filling your lungs seemed to spill out of your eyes, tears running down your face. Oikawa kneeled before you, pulling you into him, letting you bury your face into his sweatshirt that used to smell like your perfume but now smelled of something unfamiliar and unwelcoming, his hand in your hair stung colder than ice. 

He lets you cry, lets you grip him so hard, as if you think that letting go would be deadly and lets you whisper quiet “You don’t love me’s” until your throat becomes sore. 

“You heard everything,” it wasn’t a question, rather a statement. His hand reached your back, rubbing in gentle circles but it was anything but calming. You felt as if you couldn’t let go because as soon as you did, Tooru would disappear. Your sun would never shine anymore. 

“Don’t leave me, Tooru. Don’t leave me, please.”

His eyes watch your form, so defeated in his arms. 

“I won’t.”

You’ve been together for such a long time, you’ve been there through the highs and lows, always cheering him on, always there to greet him with a smile after a long, stressful day, always so willing to do anything to make him feel better even if your late night love-making ended in being unable to walk the next day and having to conceal the finger-shaped bruises left on your frail neck. Maybe it’s the stress of trying to balance college and volleyball. Maybe it’s the way seeing your face and feeling your gentle touch doesn’t put a smile on his face anymore. 

You at least deserve another chance. Another chance before he’s sure he fell out of love, even if he knows he has. 

“Y/N, I won’t leave you, I won’t,” he repeats like a mantra, like he wants his words to fill you full, like he wants you to believe it; even if he himself won’t. 

You don’t remember being carried to the bed, you don’t remember Tooru covering you in a soft, fluffy blanket but he’s still there when you wake up, with your back pressed against his chest, his long arms draped over you and his head resting against your shoulder. 

It's idle, it’s painfully normal that you can almost pretend nothing bad ever happened, that he still loves you the same way he did before. You can almost feel the brightness and warmth of the sun after being lost in the dark for so long.

The next few weeks go by fast and Oikawa keeps his promise. You never feel lonely, constant fancy dates that feel foreign after such a long time and the awkward smiles of his friends when he starts bringing you with him again. 

It almost feels too good to be true. And it is, as you learn when you return from your shitty part-time job earlier than usual. 

Don’t fly too close to the sun or you will burn. And you were burnt. Like Icarus, the wax of your wings melted and your false feelings of security you held onto are shattered into tiny pieces, never to be collected by anyone. 

He’s in the arms of another woman, another pair of lips is kissing away at his skin, tainting him, the sight making you dizzy when you can’t take your eyes off of their tangled bodies.

The woman notices you first, yelping and pulling the covers to save any dignity she has left. Oikawa can’t look up. He’s physically sick, any minute and he’ll throw up. Is he mad because you showed up early or is he disgusted by himself? The feelings mix into a dangerous combination and he’s unable to say anything. 

Only when you open your mouth do the apologies begin pouring out of his mouth, the girl beside him long forgotten as he climbs out of bed, pulls his sweatpants on and chases you into your shared bedroom. 

He catches your wrist and tries to tug you closer when you reach for anything you can. Your charger, a few clothing items and your favorite perfume he gifted you, tossed carelessly into a bag and all that’s left is the sorrow in your eyes.

He wants- no, he needs you to be mad, but as tears flow down his face he can’t help but shout at you, grab you by your shoulders and violently shake you until you plead to him to let you go, until there’s fear mixing in with the tears in your eyes. 

After he releases his iron grip, you storm off. All there’s left is the bruises starting to bloom on your skin and the voice of another woman. 

Oikawa throws up soon after that. 

***

Your phone is overwhelmed with notifications from missed calls and messages, but you run until your legs are sore and your lungs are burning. The bag in your hand is the only thing still grounding you to this world while your tears mix with the pouring rain as you fall on the cold, slimy sidewalk once again; your tights ripped and dirty. 

You reach for the door already shaking and even more pathetic-looking than before. The doorbell rings a silly melody and you consider walking away before you make a fool out of yourself, but you don’t have the time to re-think that decision when the door swings open, a slightly annoyed looking Iwaizumi standing before you.

His scowl drops as soon as he sees it’s you and his features form a worried expression when he takes in the state that you’re in. 

“Y/N, what- What the fuck happened?” he doesn’t wait for your answer, already ushering you inside as the warmth of his home seeps into your tired, frozen body. 

“I-“ 

He guides you to the living room immediately before turning up the heat and sitting you down on a couch, before sitting beside you.

You don’t dare look at him. 

“Y/N, tell me what happened.” 

He’s worried and you shrink into yourself, the feeling of guilt unbearable. You’re not worth the worry.

“Oikawa he…I found him having sex with another woman.” 

The words come out fast, like ripping off a band-aid. Iwaizumi frowns, his lips part in disbelief. Oikawa told him he was falling out of love with you, but… cheating on you in your own home was a whole ‘nother thing. 

Iwaizumi didn’t know if his face showed any obvious disgust or anger, but your hands started shaking. 

“Should I go?” your eyes find his, fluttering shut to hide the glossiness, “Iwaizumi, tell me if you need me to go. I know that Oikawa is your friend and that I’m just some girl he dated but I didn’t know where else to go, I didn’t know who else to call,” 

He can feel your uncertainty and stress so he does the first thing that comes to his mind; gently grabs your hands, flinching when he finds them ice-cold. 

“First of all, you’re not just some girl, I have known you since our third year of high school. I’m your friend as much as I’m Oikawa’s. And I won’t let you go anywhere, not in the state you’re in.” 

You stare at him in disbelief, hands still shaking. 

“Yeah, Iwa, we’re besties for life,“ your voice breaks as you try to make a joke. 

You can’t help but burst into tears again. Pathetic, fucking pathetic and annoying. Your thoughts run wild, trying to find a reason why Tooru did this to you.

Iwaizumi pulls you into a tight hug while you’re left with your arms awkwardly hanging limp by your sides, your tears and snot soiling his shirt. 

“Listen, you’re cold and your clothes are wet. How about you go take a shower while I make you something to eat? Then we can talk more about it, if you want to. But you will catch a cold staying in those wet clothes.”

The kindness is unexpected. You knew that the dark-haired man never lacked compassion, but he was so painfully kind. Too kind.

“Iwaizumi- It’s too much. I-“ 

He doesn’t let you finish, already letting you go to bring you a set of fluffy, fresh towels. 

“It’s what any friend would do. Please listen to me, I don’t want you to get sick. Please.”

There’s too much “please’s” in that sentence, but you do as he asks and let him guide you into the bathroom, pretending to listen when he tells you something about using any shampoo and shower gel you want.

And then he leaves you alone. Painfully alone again.

You undress, the wet clothes falling to the floor. Your biceps have handprints imprinted on them and you can’t stand to look at yourself anymore as you climb into the huge bathtub. 

The water is boiling and it feels like your skin is going to peel off as you trace patterns on your tired body, trying to burn Tooru’s touch away; but no water could ever be hotter than the sun. 

You don’t know how you find the strength to wash your hair, but the musky, citrusy smell of Iwaizumi’s shampoo untangles the knots in your hair, keeping your head empty. Or, as empty as it can be.

You don’t know how much time goes by but you’re sitting down with your back against the shower wall when a knock comes. 

“Y/N? I don’t want to bother you and you can take your time, but I went through your bag- I- I uh wanted to find you some clothes, didn’t mean to snoop around. But- Uh, but you don’t have any warmer clothes packed so I brought you some of mine. I’ll leave them by the door.” 

There’s no footsteps and you realize he’s waiting for an answer. Is he worried? Afraid you’ll drown yourself in his shower? A soft laugh slips past your lips. 

“Okay.” your voice sounds like it doesn’t belong to you; too distant and unrecognizable. 

The footsteps fade away and you decide to not feed into Iwa’s fears as you step out of the shower, drying yourself off. 

Wrapped in a towel, you open the door and grab the pile of clothes Iwa has left. There’s a pair of panties and a bra from your bag, then a pair of sweatpants and a huge hoodie you don’t recognize so they must be Iwaizumi’s.

Getting dressed feels like a chore. Your arms are heavy and your legs feel like they’re made out of wood. Iwaizumi’s clothes smell just like him, musky and citrusy, erasing the smell of sex that haunted you since you stormed out of your home.

The clothes fit you weirdly but you can’t complain, because they’re warm and comforting.

An aroma coming from the kitchen almost makes you dizzy again and you realize that you haven’t eaten today. 

“Sit down,” suggests Iwaizumi, as soon as you step into the kitchen, “I made ramen. It’s not anything fancy, but I didn’t do any grocery shopping recently. We, uh, I could order you take-out if you’d like that more?”

You hop onto one of the comfortable chairs and muster a smile. 

“Iwa, it’s fine, ramen is fine.”

That seems to calm his concerns, even if for a little bit. You eat in silence. He seems to observe you, blushing as soon as you catch his glance, but you don’t have the energy to ask him anything. 

You want to help him wash the dishes, the guilt of him being so kind and you not being able to do anything in return, but he just asks you to sit down, assuring that he’s got this.

He stands before you after putting the dishes away and once again grabs your hands. You don’t know if it’s to comfort you or because he doesn’t know what to do, but his hands are cold and unfamiliar; though his touch isn’t unpleasant or unwelcome. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You manage to shake your head, letting it fall into his chest. The position is awkward, but one of his hands almost automatically begins massaging your back in slow motions. 

“Ok, we will not then. Makki- uh, Makki said that you liked watching ‘Howl’s moving castle’?”

You lift your eyes, raising an eyebrow at the brunette’s statement. 

“Makki remembers stuff like that?”

Iwa lets out a dry laugh, as if trying to lighten the atmosphere. 

“He said you made him watch it with you twice.”

A ghost of a smile graces your lips. 

“No one else would, so Makki was my only option. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy it. I even heard him talking to Mattsun about it.”

It seems like your mind wanders off for a second. ‘Good’, Iwa thinks. 

“Do you want to watch it right now? I can bring you a blanket and like, snacks or something? Or you can go to sleep if you’re tired, I already made the bed.”

You’re lost in your thoughts for a moment and then your gaze meets the former vice-captain’s olive eyes again. 

“Can we um, can we actually watch ‘Jurassic park’ instead?” you ask, uncertain. 

“Yeah, of course we can,”

A good hour passes and you’re halfway into the movie, hidden almost completely under the warm blanket, when Iwaizumi turns his face away from the TV to focus it on you. His slightly chapped lips part, as if he couldn’t voice his thoughts. 

“Everything okay?” you ask, turning your attention away from the blood-thirsty dinosaurs chasing a group of people. 

“Why did you pick this movie?”

You feel heat flood your cheeks, palming the material of the blanket.

“It’s one of Tooru’s favorites. He likes watching dumb dinosaurs and even dumber people.”

Your answer is quiet, but Iwaizumi knew the answer even before the words left your mouth, he only needed you to confirm it. How does watching a movie that the ‘person who cheated on you’ liked could bring you comfort?

“I know it’s stupid and God, um, I probably look pathetic right now and all but,” you pause to take a deep breath, tears threatening to spill all over again, “If I watch it closely enough, I can almost convince myself that everything’s like before. That we’re watching a movie with you and Tooru and he just left to get a drink.”

Soft cries that you fail to silence leave your lips as Iwaizumi pulls you closer, not resisting enough to look at you so hurt and defeated. It’s probably weird to hug you as much as he did today, but you don’t seem to mind, burying your head into his shoulder and crying away. He’s not good with words;  the complete opposite of Oikawa, who makes small talk and comforting words look effortless. Physical comfort is his only way Iwauzumi can show that he truly cares. 

It’s a good half an hour before you’re asleep in his arms, the movie long-forgotten. Iwaizumi’s eyes take in your form. You poor thing, Iwa didn’t really know how to help you or take your pain away besides taking care of you the best he could. 

He reaches for his phone on the edge of the sofa, wanting to check the time and probably carry you to the bed but he finds tons of notifications still ongoing. They’re all either from Oikawa or the groupchat of the former third years. 

He doesn’t bother responding to Oikawa, opting to read the groupchat. He can’t care enough to read all the messages they’ve exchanged while he was gone so he scrolls a good bit. 

Shittykawa: fuck, you really don’t know where she is?

Makki: for the 10th time, we tried calling her friends. 

Makki: none of them know, how do you expect us to know?

Shittykawa: just fuck

Shittykawa: shit, this is so bad. What if something bad happened to her?

Mattsun: Yeah? Something like her boyfriend cheating on her?

Mattsun: Oh wait :D

Makki: mattsun, now’s not the time

Makki: oikawa you fucked up and I want to personally beat you up, but blowing up the groupchat won’t help you find Y/N

Makki: take a breather, calm down. I’m sure she just went to some friend we don’t know or something

Shittykawa: I’ll try calling her

Iwaizumi scowls, fingers typing out a fast response.

Iwa-chan!!: don’t

Matssun: Iwa? Wtf 

Iwa-chan!!: she’s at my place

Iwa-chan!!: she’s safe and asleep, just finished crying her eyes out

Shittykawa: what the actual fuck

Shittykawa: I’ve been calling fucking everyone and NOW you decide to tell me she’s at yours?

Makki: why is she at yours tho? 

Mattsun: Yeah, would’ve guessed she went to Mina’s or smth

Iwa-chan!!: well im her friend too so

Makki: yeah, it’s just weird

Mattsun: She also could’ve went to ours lol

Makki: good thing she’s at Iwa’s

Makki: I couldn’t handle another marathon of fucking studio Ghibli movies

Mattsun: Where’s Oikawa tho? 

Shittykawa: omw to Iwa’s

Iwa-chan!!: wtf no

Shittykawa: I’m taking her home

Mattsun: Yeah, probably not the best idea

Iwa-chan!!: she just fucking cried because of you, you think she wants to see you

Makki: you should give Y/N space, Oikawa

Makki: I doubt she wants to see you rn

Shittykawa: don’t care

Shittykawa: open the door Iwa

Iwa grunted, gently moving you away from his shoulder and slightly increasing the sound of the movie, not wanting to wake you up when the inevitable screaming match between him and Oikawa breaks out. 

Makki: wanna bet ¥1000 that Iwa at least slaps Oikawa?

Mattsun: Nah, I bet ¥2000 that they get into a screaming match and wake Y/N up 

Iwa puts his phone down, not bothering to read any more incoming messages and moving to open his door. He doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to look his best friend of so many years into eyes. Doesn’t dare wonder what will happen when you wake up and see Oikawa here.

Despite so many reasons to not open his door, his arm automatically reaches for the handle and swings it open. 

Oikawa stands there, looking like a ghost in the pale moonlight. His features seem blurry in the light, warm brown eyes now cold as ice. He pushes past Iwa, uninvited and slams the door shut, eyes searching for any sign of you, as if you’re just going to appear out of nowhere. One of Iwa’s hands clutches Oikawa’s shirt sleeve and holds it tight.

“She’s sleeping, don’t you dare go and fucking wake her up after the day she’s had,” grunts Iwa, dragging his best friend to the kitchen. Despite being there so many times before, today Oikawa seems out of place. 

“I’m taking her home,” states Oikawa, once again. 

“No, you’re not,” retorts the dark-haired man, “Sit the fuck down and let’s talk.”

Oikawa begrudgingly pulls out a chair and sits down. They’re looking at each other for a moment, not daring to break the silence. It almost feels like everything is okay, for a moment, like nothing happened, like it’s another quiet evening spent talking at Iwa’s house. If Oikawa concentrates hard enough he can almost imagine hearing your’s and Makki’s banter over the movie choice for tonight and Mattsun chuckling. Almost. 

“What the hell were you thinking? I thought everything was going okay,” Iwa tries to ask calmly, but the way he talks through his gritted teeth alarms Oikawa that they’re not about to have a quiet, calm conversation. 

“I wasn’t thinking. Y/N wasn’t meant to walk in.”

“So you planned to cheat on her and just go on with your life, God I-“ Iwa stops to take a deep breath. He knows he needs to keep himself level-headed but it’s so fucking hard, “When you told me that you’re falling out of love I was hoping everything would turn out okay. Even if not, I thought you’ll just break up with her, not… Not that,”

Oikawa looks lost. His eyes trace the coffee mugs on the table, then reach the colorful rag near the sink and then travel back to Iwaizumi. Hajime knows that his friend is looking just above his eyes, avoiding the judgemental gaze. 

“What am I supposed to do now?” the former captain’s voice is merely a whisper, the confidence it always carries gone. 

Iwa sees the way Oikawa is suffering, yet he cannot find it in himself to feel sorry for the former captain. The complete and utter selfishness of his actions; disgusting. 

“Get out and sleep it off. Let her rest, that’s the best you can do.” 

“I want to see her, to apologise, to-“

“Would you want to hear apologies from your partner, who you just caught cheating on you?” Oikawa’s face drops even more, if possible. A frown takes its place on his guilt-ridden features, a bunch of different thoughts making it hard to focus.

“I fucked up- I,” Oikawa’s searching for words, but can’t seem to find any, “There’s no coming back from this, is there?”

Iwa looks up. Seeing Oikawa in so much pain almost makes him physically ill. He feels conflicted. He wants to comfort his best friend, tell him that everything will be okay, that this situation has a solution, but Iwaizumi has never been a good liar. The former vice-captain manages to nod and they sit in silence until there’s footsteps. 

Oikawa scrambles to stand up, already at the kitchen entrance before Hajime manages to catch him. It’s like their conversation flies out of Oikawa’s head — he’s trapping you in a tight hug, whispering promises and apologies, while you just helplessly stare at Iwa.

“Let me go, Oikawa,” you mutter, voice completely powerless and void of any emotion. The usage of his surname sends a shiver down Tooru’s spine. Small details begin to fall into place – your red, puffy eyes, the way you hold yourself like you just want to hide and the fact that you’re wearing his best friend’s clothes. You smell like Iwaizumi and that finally snaps Oikawa out of his trance. He lets you go, “If you have any respect left for me and my feelings, please leave”. 

You say the sentence with such exhaustion that it seems like it’s physically hard for you to speak. 

“I’m gonna leave, alright?” He leans a bit, so that you can look straight into his eyes. It seems like he has been crying too. You catch Iwaizumi’s gaze in your peripheral vision, “But please know that I’ll be waiting for you to come back, okay? 

Your eyes wander away and he abruptly grabs your shoulders. You notice Iwa tensing up. 

“I know you’re too smart to listen to my apologies, but please consider it, okay? I know you love me, Y/N, so think about it. I’ll come pick you up anytime, alright?” 

You manage a nod and just like that – Oikawa is gone, a quick goodbye to Iwaizumi and he’s out the door.  It hurts, hurts so fucking much. A moment of enlightenment then complete darkness again.

“Y/N…” Iwa is careful when he hugs you, like he’s afraid to hurt you. You step away so that you can look into his eyes. Dark green mixed with olive and brown tones seems to magically reel you in. You just want the pain to go away, even if for a moment. You’re so incredibly close to him and you can’t resist – your lips connect and you close your eyes. Iwaizumi doesn’t seem shocked, and even if he is, he instantly kisses you back. 

His lips are slightly chapped and his hands explore your body carefully – every move and touch thought through. 

He pulls away for a moment and your arms instantly reach to pull him closer, to go back to the state with no thoughts and problems – just pure passion, kisses filled with sadness and longing. 

“Do you really want this?” he murmurs, almost into your lips, “Do you really want me or am I just a temporary replacement you can imagine Oikawa’s face on?”

He can read people so well, even if it doesn’t seem so. There’s nothing else besides physical affection and a long-lasting friendship. You trust him, you trust him to take the pain away, to make you forget your sun. 

“I want you to take the pain away,” you answer him and your lips meet once again, “Please, Ha-ji-me,” you say his name in between kisses and Iwaizumi curses himself. 

He’s an awful person and an even worse friend – leading, no, dragging you into his icy cold bed, when he should be comforting you, kissing away at your neck and quickly undressing you instead of calling Oikawa to come up with a way to fix this mess. He can’t help it, he can’t help himself from marking your pretty tits up when he’s wanted you since third year in high school, since you were utterly and completely Oikawa’s. 

Having something so forbidden is exciting and Iwa knows that he can still back out, can still stay a good friend to Tooru, but why not just give him a taste of his own medicine? God, his moral compass is all fucked up. 

His fingers softly massage your clit until they dip lower, slowly and softly fingering you while his thumb plays with your clit. He swallows up your sweet moans and mewls within his mouth, kissing you roughly and full of passion.

“Good girl,” he mutters, leaving yet another mark on your neck, the possessive side of him enjoying the already visible bruises that litter your upper body. 

You whine when he thrusts particularly hard, hitting the spot that almost makes you instantly cream around his fingers.

“D-don’t be gentle, okay? I’m not gonna break,” you manage to say in between moans, “I want you to cause me physical pain, yeah? O-oh- so t-that I can forget why It’s hurting so much,”

Iwa’s brain seems empty. On one hand, he should be comforting you, not hurting you, but on the other hand, how can he say no when you look up at him, utter and complete sadness clouding your teary eyes, short pants slipping past your plush lips. 

“You want me to make it hurt?” he chuckles, one huge hand enclosing around your neck with the other still inside you, grinning when you lean into his cold hand’s touch, desperate to be ruined, “Okay, I’ll do that.”

Iwa’s not a sadist in bed, most of the time, but you asked him to make you forget. And to be honest, he really wants you to forget. How euphoric would it be if that fucked-out look would be reserved for him only? 

“A-ah, can I come, please?” you ask, hardly able to talk, pupils dilating, hands trembling and reaching to grab his snow-white sheets, looking for something to hold onto. 

“Good girl, such a good girl asking for permission,” he mumbles and your eyes light up, but then the hand on your neck squeezes harder and you’re left with your mouth agape, watching Iwaizumi’s delighted face as he fingers you into completion, “You have to ask nicely if you want to cum. What did you used to call Oikawa?

His fingers slow to an agonizing pace and you let out a groan in frustration. Iwa wonders if he’s crossed a line with his questions, but all his worries are calmed down, when your eyes sparkle with fresh tears and you manage to sob out a frantic “Please, daddy, please, can I cum?” as if you’re afraid the brunette will take away your pleasure. 

“Cum” he orders, high on the power you basically handed to him without any resistance. And then he watches you come undone on his fingers, your face filled with ecstasy as you keen and cream around his fingers.

Iwaizumi gives you a moment to get yourself together and breathe as he moves his hand away, but after that he’s expectantly shoving his fingers with your juices towards your face and beams when you suck his fingers clean; even without him asking. 

He strokes your cheek and pulls out his pulsing cock out of his boxers. He’s so impossibly hard and he just can’t wait to be in you, feeling the heat of your tight walls on his dick. 

You look down and your eyes become as wide as saucers – he’s no longer than Oikawa, but definitely thicker, oh you just know you’ll have trouble walking the next day. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, baby,” he chuckled, “Let daddy take care of you.”

There’s thoughts rattling through your head for a moment, but then you give in and nod – still not able to completely think after a mind-numbing orgasm. 

Iwaizumi lines himself up with your creaming hole and then pushes in. You mewl and keen, but he keeps going, swallowing all the noises with comforting kisses, knowing that If you’d really wanted him to stop, you would’ve told him so. Inch after inch and he’s finally bottomed out – your pelvises rubbing together. 

“I’m gonna move now, yeah? Pretty girl,” he can’t help but praise you – so pretty, all submissive and blissed-out just for him.

Iwaizumi’s thrusts are hard and fast – it seems like he wants to engrave the shape of his cock into your tight walls and his name into your fuzzy, pleasure-filled brain.

“Daddy-“ you whine, “So good, feels mmhm- feels so goo-good!” you scream, biting at his neck, making the brunette suck in a harsh breath. 

“Yeah? You’re gonna be my good girl after this, huh?”

You can’t focus your thoughts to answer – the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, the way his muscles are flexing when he grabs your hips, the way he smells, the-

Iwaizumi slaps you. Not hard, but hard enough to get your attention and for pain to begin blooming in your cheek. 

“Daddy asked you a question. I expect you to answer, honey.” His green eyes are darkened with lust, pet name condescending. 

“Y-yeah, gonna be your good girl, daddy,” you pant, breath coming out in short puffs.

From your expression and the way you’re clenching down on him, he can feel that you’re close.

“You on birth control?” Iwa asks, not completely lost in pleasure, still able to think, but fuck is the thought of coming in you hot.

“Y-yeah,” you cry out, “Cum inside me, yo-you can cum inside me,”

That’s all it takes. His vision flashes, strong arms trembling and squeezing your hips even harder and then he paints your walls white. You come soon after – a little stimulation to the clit and you’re coming on his softening dick. 

You stay there for a few moments, both breathing and collecting yourselves. Iwa falls to your side, pulling you close to him, tucking your head under his chin, your hot breath tickling his neck.

“Thanks,” you manage to say, before blacking out. It seems like today’s events really tired you out. Hajime doesn’t mind. He could get used to this. Used to you in his bed, used to you being completely his. He couldn’t get used to the guilt though. He stays up, lost in thought, until first rays of liquid gold begin leaking through the curtains.

***

Iwaizumi picks up your things from your’s and Oikawa’s place. You’re miserable yet again – asking Iwaizumi to do it for you through hiccupping sobs. 

His best friend of many years has your bags ready, your shared apartment weirdly empty, cold and unwelcoming without your things. 

“So she’s really not coming back,” Oikawa mutters. He looks even more miserable than you; it’s fucking depressing and the guilt comes back stronger than ever. Fuck.

“Well you can’t blame Y/N. You cheated,” Iwa retorts, tone colder and harsher than he intended. 

“Yeah, that,” Tooru laughs, a noise so empty and pathetic that his best friend cringes, “Does she have a place to stay?” 

“She’s staying at mine’s” 

“You’re fucking, aren’t you?” Oikawa chuckled and Iwaizumi froze, “Figured. I have no reason to be mad at you, Iwa, but I fucking am. Still feels like… She’s mine, you know? And I really wanna fucking beat you up for touching what’s mine, but I’m not going to do that,”

Iwa nods. His best friend was always too good at reading people. Too good for his own good. 

“I’m going to Argentina soon. Got a good deal to play at in professional team while still being able to finish my studies,”

“That’s… That’s amazing Tooru,” Iwaizumi is excited for him – there were no doubts that he was going to make his dreams come true, but it’s like a weight has lifted off of Iwa’s shoulders; Oikawa is going to be miles away from you and you’re not going to fall back into the setter’s awaiting arms. 

“I know you’ll feel like she’s completely yours when I’m gone, but I’m not doing this for you. I want to change, to be a better person. A new country might help. But I won’t be gone from her life, yeah? I’m still her friend, even if it's a really shitty one. Time heals people, who knows what the future will bring.” Oikawa smiles and Iwaizumi’s heart beats in his chest. 

“If you want to get back with her someday-  I won’t- I won’t let you. Okay? Yeah, you have everything and she’s mine. You had your chance, Tooru,” Iwa is about to walk out, your bags in his hands, but there’s something stopping him. Right, “Text me when you’re there, tell me how you’re doing. Still want to know that you’re safe.”

“Will do,” Oikawa responds and the door to his apartment closes. It’s over.  

*** 

Iwaizumi blocks Oikawa’s number from calling you. The less you know the better. He’s away now and he doesn’t have time to call you. Everything is over and you’re happy with Iwaizumi. 

But when you press his hand against your neck harder and harder, the look in your eyes looks something close to a prayer, begging. He doesn‘t know if he should cry for himself or for you, because you‘re asking him to hurt you over and over again, harder and harder, for the physical pain to replace the everlasting ache in your heart; if even for a moment. You are completely and utterly Oikawa Tooru‘s and no matter how many  “I love you’s” you whisper into Iwaizumi’s neck on lonely and self-hatred filled nights, when the sun is replaced by the moon, he knows that you’ll never be his. That he’s never going to be your sun. He knows from the way your hands reach for your phone as soon as it rings, from the way your face drops when it’s not the voice you crave to hear, from seeing your eyes tear up when you’re looking at him, your head spinning from trying to imagine a different face instead of Iwaizumi’s. 

It's stupidly foolish of him to hope that he could ever be enough for you. That he could ever replace Oikawa, replace the man you compared to the sun. Iwaizumi was cold and bitter, the care and worry always masked by a scowl. Could he be your moon at least? Would you ever be satisfied with the coldness of the moon, when you once had the warmth of the sun? 

Iwaizumi doesn’t want you to answer the questions he never voices, the ones you have probably already answered hundreds of times in your head. 

All he can do is pull you closer and hope to be enough. The night is filled with sounds from the city that flow through the open window alongside the darkness. He can almost pretend he doesn’t feel the uneven rise of your chest, almost ignore the quiet sobs you try to hold in. 

Iwaizumi buries his face into your hair, the citrusy and musky smell of his shampoo filling his senses assuring him that he’s not in the wrong here. 

So why does it feel so bad to be selfish for once? To hold you in his arms like this, seeking to give you the comfort he knows you crave from another. 

Why does it feel so bad to keep you away from the sun?

another price lookalike porn link unlocked

18+ no minors or ageless blogs, afab reader, daddy kink, oral f receiving. the race of the girl in the vid isn’t indicative of anything written below, i only linked it bc the guy in the vid looks like price. everything written below is race and (i believe) body inclusive. (this was done in like 3 mins so 😅)

just imagine him holding you down with his big hairy arms while he laps up your juices. his hands digging into your plush skin. his beard scratching your sensitive mound as his tongue flattens along your folds, before dipping into your cunt. humming a pleased rumble against your pussy, damn near a growl.

you struggle to look at him as he peers up at you, his eyes drinking in your writhing form with all the ferocity and hunger of a lion devouring its prey.

“sweet little pussy. daddies pretty cunt.” he all but growls into you. “y’hear me? this pussy is mine. these sweet juices are mine.”

he’s practically making out with your cunt, kissing it so passionately and slowly like he would always kiss you. the wet sounds he makes between your thighs makes you gasp even more, more than you already were. he was lapping up any trace of you that he could get, eating you out like a man starved.

“who gets this pussy wet, hm?” he asks, as if you could even answer coherently with his tongue fucking you. “s’ it simon? or kyle? maybe johnny?”

denials sit on your tongue as you feel the warm coil in your stomach tighten. you shake your head desperately. no. no. it could never be them. it could never be anyone but you. you want to say, but the words don’t come out. you’re too busy moaning and mewling to say anything he could make out.

“or is it this wet for daddy? hm?”

all you can do is nod, nod so fast you fear you might get whiplash. always for him, only ever for daddy.

he laughs against your cunt, his tongue dipping back inside your pussy.

“mmm, that’s it.” he hums against you, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucks before humming again.

your hands shake and your head falls back for a moment, before you look at him again. his beard is all soaked and shiny in your slick and his hands moved to grip your wrists, holding them steady.

he grins against you as he feels your legs shake. he flicks his tongue against your clit before sucking the swollen bundle of nerves into his mouth.

“come on, give it to me. come for daddy. now.”

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